


don’t throw away your shot

by watchtheleaves



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: (it’s not important in this specific story but it’s always there), Autistic Albert DaSilva, Kissing, Laser Tag, M/M, for some reason idk don’t ask, it’s three am, no angst for once, non binary albert dasilva, race’s birthday!! yay, race’s dog is named luna and i love her, race’s parents are rich, syd this is for you babe, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24035239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchtheleaves/pseuds/watchtheleaves
Summary: for race’s seventeenth birthday, albert outdoes themselves. race isn’t necessarily pleased.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	don’t throw away your shot

**Author's Note:**

> it’s not a hamilton quote. it’s three am.
> 
> i love this fic, not gonna lie. i didn’t proofread it as much as i should’ve, but hey, who are you to judge.
> 
> i love them. i love them. i love them.

No matter what they had to do to stop it, Laser Tag was _not_ closing on Race’s birthday—not if Albert had anything to say about it.

For nine years and since the very beginnings of their friendship, birthdays had been a pillar in Race and Albert’s relationship. With barely over a month between both dates and really not much of a variety of options—late winter and early autumn were rather awful dates to be born, facing the music—it had always been their job and no one else’s to make each other’s birthdays unforgettable.

So, no. Laser Tag wasn’t closing on April 7th. There was simply no way in all of hell that that was acceptable.

“April 7th—Here it is. Like I told you. It’s the day before Easter, man,” said a skinny boy with a severe case of acne and a painfully nasal voice. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Albert waved their arms. “Not close?”

The boy scoffed. “Yeah.”

As he walked around Albert, they followed him with their eyes unbelievingly. The place was dark and smelled like the inside of an arcade game machine, and it was way too early in the morning for the neon lights to be on at such intensity. They groaned.

“Listen, I—“ They walked up to the boy, who seemed to be looking for some keys. “I’ll pay extra. I just need two hours, c’mon. It’s just two people.”

“Do you know how much I make in a day’s work?”

“I don’t know, like, ten dollars an hour?“

At Albert’s lack of impressiveness, the boy rolled his eyes, then squinted. “Fifty bucks. Thirty minutes. And you never come here again.”

Fifteen-year-olds with jobs sure did hold grudges. That wasn’t any threat to their own personality, since Albert was recently seventeen and very much unemployed.

“Deal.”

Now, Albert adored their birthday like few people did on earth after the age of ten. It was easy to like it, because they never feared to have to celebrate it wrong—Race was good at many things, but party planning was one of his specialties.

Either that, or he knew Albert like the back of his hand. Definitely one of the two.

On the other hand, Antonio Higgins was incredibly hard to impress. Sure, the boy often looked at the world through a golden lens, but surprises were simply not a part of his system. Which was rather annoying, if Albert was one to talk.

Laser Tag was Race’s mortal enemy. The incredibly talented, incredibly skilled, incredibly sporty boy—who looked scrawny yet was strangely built—had never come out of a game undefeated. Albert, of all people, who was maybe one of the least kin to any and all physical activity that didn’t include dancing, was just born to beat him to the punch.

It frustrated Race to no end, and every time they went, he came out fuming.

There was no place more perfect to host his seventeenth birthday.

Race’s doorbell was broken, had been for almost four years now. It was supposed to get fixed by the old owner, but then he moved to Jamaica, so Albert just grew accustomed over the years to having to press with their life until a sound came out. Now, it was so familiar it would seem weird to ring like a normal person.

The neighborhood was nice. Nothing changed much over the years.

“ _Alberto_!” A sing-song voice exclaimed through the third floor window. Albert looked up with a hand extended over their head right on time to catch the set of keys that flew at them.

Allowing themselves in, Albert hummed to a song that had been annoyingly stuck to the back of their head for a week and a half and wondered how Meeks, Race’s neighbor’s cat, was feeling after her ear infection.

With one pet in mind, another stalked up to Albert as they opened the door to apartment 3A and strolled in. Luna, brilliant and happy and beautiful as ever, ran towards them and started barking in excitement.

“Hey, Lu,” shushed Albert, kneeling to pet the dog properly behind her ear. “Where’s Tony, huh? Where’s he hiding?”

Prompted, Race walked out of the kitchen. It was pitiful, really, his taste in clothes. It was definitely worse that he looked so incredibly good in those colorful button ups.

Albert stood up and grinned. “The birthday boy,” they greeted, carefully stepping around Luna and walking towards the boy in question.

Race sheepishly rolled his eyes, which was most uncommon, and extended his hand for Albert to retrieve in their usual, very complicated handshake. Albert smiled and pulled him in for a hug.

“How ya doing, Tony? Drove a car, yet? Got married? Registered to vote? Got interviewed by the police? Left your body for medical study?” They joked, pulling away. “No, don’t tell me—you got a car, drove to Vegas, got married, voted for Bernie, got arrested, and _then_ left your body for medical study.”

“Someone’s done their research.”

“Shut up, I’m enjoying this.”

Race smiled and shrugged. “None of the above, but I got cash, like—well, like any other birthday, I guess. Luxurious life when your parents are businesspeople, right?”

“Ah, right,” Albert patted his shoulder, marching off into the kitchen. “Antonio Higgins III, heir of _Higgins LLP_. How’s that sound?”

Following them closely, Race cringed. “Just punch me in the face.”

“That’s the spirit,” Albert exclaimed, fishing out a soda off of Race’s packed fridge. “Where are Mr. and Mrs. today?”

“Dunno. Washington? Florida? Barcelona?”

A nod. “You’re all mine, then. Clear the schedule, darling, I’ve planned the whole day.”

A fancy way of saying, _I’ve paid 250% for a half hour of Laser Tag and after that we’ll walk our shoes off and see where the wind takes us_. Albert was proud of their ways of speech.

Still, with little to no clue of what the future held and no real reason to have high hopes, Race’s face lit up entirely.

He was happy with so little. Albert loved him entirely.

“I love this song,” Race exclaimed, turning the window down enough to scream lyrics to innocent bystanders from where he sat in the passenger seat. Albert smiled, hand in the wheel.

“Been in my head all damn week.”

“‘Cause it’s amazing, that’s why.”

It was often that they found themselves in the same car. Even before Albert got their license, they had too many activities together to not travel side by side—rehearsals, friends’ sleepovers, even some holidays. Driving into the sunset with Race was routine for Albert, and being the one driving just made them feel more in control of the one thing in their life that had always been their own—Race.

Because Race’s smile, and the way he laughed with his head all the way to the back, and the way he still hadn’t figured out how to tie his shoes properly, and how beautifully bad he was at baseball—that was Albert’s, in a way.

Race had shared the better part of his life with them, had he not? That meant something. Not in the way Albert wanted, craved, dreamed, but it did. Their something special was and would always be Race.

“What are we doing here?” Race turned to face them, half-terrified, half-upset. The mixture was hilarious.

Albert shrugged. “Just stopping by.”

“No, it’s the day before Easter. Laser Tag is closed, Albie, it’s—it _is_ , right?”

“Oh, Racey,” Albert hummed, grinning and blinking slowly at him. “You don’t know what I’m capable of, my dear.”

“I’m not going in there with you.”

“Alright.”

With the music still blasting through the car sound system, Albert sat back and looked straight ahead, aiming for serious but landing at struggling hard, trying not to cackle.

“Albert, I’m not going.”

“I said it’s okay.”

“Well—I’m not!”

“Peachy.”

A loud groan and a contained complaint escaped the boy as he punched Albert’s arm once before exiting the car. Pumping their fist, Albert followed.

The boy was waiting for them—for the cash, rather—at the entrance. The place was shady enough on a busy afternoon, but now that it was open just for them, it made Albert shiver to their core. As they were guided inside, the nasally voice made Race’s eyes go wide, like any time he struggled to keep in a laugh. Albert nodded in agreement.

“We don’t usually do two-players, since it’s bad business, but—“ The boy sighed, looking between them. “Whatever. You don’t care about that. Just don’t break anything.”

The maze was, what a surprise, very dark and very moist. It didn’t take much for Albert to loosen up, but the first seconds locked in inside felt stiff as all hell. Not precisely their way to describe a paradisiac location.

For one, the vest was tight enough. Albert’s hair was shorter this time around, so it didn’t interfere with any of the sensors.

By Race’s request, god knows why, they were playing on cartridge guns. It was a fun exercise for Albert, but they didn’t think Race was going to feel very good about his decision later in the day.

The boy had vested them and told them they had precisely twelve minutes before shooing them to their starting points at opposite sides of the map. Why _twelve_ exactly was something that escaped Albert’s knowledge.

Gun in one hand, they counted fifteen seconds after the buzzer before starting their trek. If Race found out they were giving him a head start, he’d freak, but Albert did it without a need for request or permission. They didn’t really believe Race would beat them this time, but it’d be fun to see him try.

Two corner turns ahead and they stopped at the recognition of someone else’s breathing. It wasn’t that they were the only ones playing—Albert would be caught dead before not recognizing Race in a heartbeat. They recollected their thoughts, stepping further to the side and waiting for more movement.

A shot in the back, a loud _blam_ , and they ducked instantly. _What_ —

Turning around and ducking another blast, Albert stood up and nailed a perfect shot at Race’s left shoulder, then spinned to hide behind a column.

Race was smiling. Of course he was.

Waiting for development, the silence made Albert itch in excitement all over. They knew Race was flat against the opposite side of the column, waiting for them to yield.

In a fast turn before running off, they shot right at Race’s chest. With a groan that sounded a lot like laughter, the boy ran after them.

“Come on out, DaSilva,” he exclaimed, parading himself. Albert dared to peek from their hideout. “Not very birthday-friendly behavior, bud.”

They stepped out and aimed, but lost balance. Race got a shot, Albert got two. They were still ahead and growing rather cocky at their friend’s frustrated expression.

Running after each other rather unceremoniously, they got so many shots in the dark that if it weren’t for the blaring led signs on their vests, Albert would have no idea who was winning. The five on their chest was an impending equal to Race’s.

A tie wasn’t acceptable for any parties involved.

The clock left them three minutes to solve it out. Stalking around a corner into a passageway with no exit, Albert came closer to the back wall, scanning for Race everywhere. They had to be less than five centimeters from it when they found him—when _he_ found _them_ , more like.

There was a glint in Race’s eyes as he turned Albert around and against the back wall. He did love a good competition.

“Hi,” he whispered, smiling at a dangerous distance. “Havin’ fun?”

Knees weakening, Albert looked into Race’s eyes. “Sure. Are _you_ , birthday boy?”

“Dunno,” Race shrugged. “Thought this would be harder, y’know. An actual challenge.”

“Oh, really?” Albert raised an eyebrow, holding their gun up. “What’s to stop me from shooting you right now?”

Race laughed and it was overwhelming, really, how Albert’s chest was so close to his that they felt the laughter rise from deep below the end of his throat. They studied Race in confusion for nearly a second before their mind went blank and imploded in colors.

With their back flat against the wall, Albert kissed Race back like they were always meant to do so. They fell into an easy rhythm, Race taking charge with one hand in Albert’s hip as they melted into the motions completely.

Peeling back just enough to show off a smug grin, he barely gave Albert any time to breathe before lifting his right arm and shooting right at their chest.

The timer hit zero and Albert stood, frozen.

“Al?” Race tilted his head.

His eyes hid something so treasured that Albert wanted to explore them for eternities to come.

They wiped their mouth with their sleeve, snapping back into reality. “I can’t believe you just beat me at Laser Tag.”

**Author's Note:**

> i can’t believe i didn’t hurt albert? i’m so nice?
> 
> THIS IS FOR SYD, I LOVE YOU SYD
> 
> i’m @newsieslive on twitter and @whizzcrwins on tumblr, i adore people who leave comments and if you do you’ll instantly become my best friend. stay home! drink water!


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